Made to Be Broken
by SilverSentinal21
Summary: Back when Deeks got his motor cycle, he got a lot of flack. Rules are rules, but some are made to be broken.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I know, amazing right? No, I am not dead, but I got into a lot of new writing, then I got burned out. Finally, I got sick and burned out. However, I've decided my writing needs to move forward. I need to finish unfinished projects, and start new ones. I can't promise too much new NCISLA stuff, however I will definitely be focused on completing what I already have up.**

* * *

On an average day Callen believed he and Deeks enjoyed a friendly working relationship. Neither of them liked to let colleagues run amok in their personal lives. The only exceptions to that preference extended to their respective partners and Hetty. Even then, Deeks needed Kensi in his personal life far more than Callen wanted or needed Sam in his, and that was without the insane levels of unresolved sexual tension between the younger pair. Still, over the years, the two misfits of the OSP had their opportunities for _'bonding' _as Nate said. They enjoyed teaming up to gently torment Sam and Kensi at times. Callen reached out to his teammate when he felt he needed to do so, and Deeks silently and loyally stood with his team leader throughout the war to discover who he was. Watching Deeks pull up to _The Mission_ on his new motorcycle had amused him. Hetty took rules about 'down-time' safety seriously, but Callen firmly believed that some rules were made to be broken. Like the rest of his team, he watched the young detective with concern, and looked for signs that he could be a danger to himself, or others, after his torture by Siderov. He knew that the shaggy surfer-cop had a long way to go before the scars faded, but he also knew that the motorcycle wasn't evidence of reckless behavior.

While the team prepared to go to their favorite watering hole, he doubled back to Hetty's office. One of the assistants from the wardrobe department burst in with an emergency involving a stain of squid ink. He stifled a chuckle as a vicious scowl settled over his tiny boss' face, as he watched her storm to wardrobe. Quickly, he went to the confiscation box kept in a false bottom in the cupboard where she kept the swear jar. He effortlessly jimmied the lock with his hairpin and took Deeks' keys. Carefully erasing the evidence of his theft, he sat back down at his desk and waited for his team. A self-satisfied grin formed on his lips as he glanced at his watch. _'One minute and forty-eight seconds! I beat my own record,'_ he mentally cheered.

"It's not fair!" Deeks cried out, dodging Kensi's hand. "It's not! YOU ride that bike of yours on down time and stop spouting those idiotic statistics! If I wanted to risk my neck I wouldn't have bought a motorcycle, I would've waited until the deadly waves hit the pipeline in Hawaii and then taken the one I knew I couldn't ride. I would've gone skydiving and opened the shoot too early, or too late! I've got a buddy that goes cave diving, if I wanted to risk my neck I could call him up and be off tomorrow! I bought a bike, I WORE A HELMET, I FOLLOWED THE RULES OF THE ROAD!" he shouted, getting up in her face. "If it's Hetty's rule that I don't ride my bike right now, I'll follow it. If it makes you scared for me right now, I'll respect that. What I WILL NOT accept is hypocrisy, Kens. Not from you, or anyone else. Now, get off my back."

"Deeks," Sam said softly, coming between the feuding pair. "Ride with me to the bar okay, I remember how bad it hurt when Hetty first came down on me. Kensi and Callen are the spoiled ones, they just don't get it."

"Fine, I'll be in the car," Deeks replied in a calm but stiff voice.

Callen watched his strong Kensi flinch as her partner marched past her without as much as a backward glance. He stood up and flung his arm around her shoulder. "Well, we better catch up to them if we want any potato skins," he sighed, as she roughly shoved him away. "Well, I was going to let you drive the _Aston,_ but if you want to act like that I'll let you get a ride with our geek warriors," he admonished with a smirk.

Kensi's mismatched eyes turned on him with a searing glare. He met it with his typical nonchalance when he knew he was in the right. The younger woman jutted out her chin, and she grit her teeth repressing the agonizing frustration plaguing her Deeks captured. After a moment, reason returned, and she let out a long sigh as tension drained from her body. "I don't think I can handle watching Eric attempt to interrogate Nell about her squad of admirers," she whispered.

He grinned, throwing his arm around her shoulders once more. "Come on then, I'm starved." As he gently guided Kensi to the garage they passed Hetty returning to the bullpen. "We'll meet you there, Hetty," G. called out.

"Very well, Mr. Callen," the older woman acknowledged.

As she gathered her things together at the end of the day, Hetty cursed the uncomfortable position she found herself in. She considered herself a guardian of the men and women under her charge, and when her people were injured physically or mentally her protective instincts heightened dramatically. She chuckled as she tied her latest Parisian scarf around her neck. Deeks' sassy assertion that she worried more about him than the others due to favoritism amused her. She considered each individual relationship with her people unique and equally important, but she did consider Deeks as the 'baby' of her family. As the 'baby' of any family, there were equal amounts of coddling and vexing heaped upon him. Also, as the 'baby' Deeks had the least amount of experience with the inherent dangers of the work they did. His life as an undercover detective could not prepare him for the unique challenges of the OSP of NCIS. That fact had made her offer him the applications before her trip to Romania. His full potential could be realized away from the LAPD, but she understood he must make the choice for himself alone. So, she did the only thing she could do for him now, watch over him as he healed. If that required a certain amount of over-protection during his off-time then so be it. Switching off her desk light she sighed, she had just one more duty to preform, and then she intended to have a long hot bath.

* * *

Despite some merciless teasing and a few brushes of death, Callen didn't mind Kensi's crazy driving. Perhaps due to his misspent youth where joyriding had been a regular past time, his time racing with Gibbs through Eastern Europe, or just the fact that Kensi knew how to drive dangerously made him immune. The same could not be said for the driver of the SUV she cut off. He could hear the man hurling expletives over his blaring horn. "Kensi, I trust you with my life, but it's not a good idea to provoke others into road-rage."

"I'm not worried about their road-rage, they should be worried about mine!" Kensi snapped as she accelerated.

"Okay," he replied nonchalantly. "Here's the thing, I'm pretty sure you're not dealing with road-rage."

"Really, Dr. Callen," Kensi answered with a voice as sweet as honey. "Has Nate been giving you shrink lessons over a secret hook-up?"

"I don't need Nate for shrink lessons I've seen hundreds in my life," Callen laughed. "Deeks isn't your ex-fiancée, Kensi. He's not the same man as before, and he will never be that man again. We both know that. However, that doesn't mean he'll develop PTSD. You have to stop projecting the past onto the present. It's not fair to him, or to you."

"Callen, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't know PTSD like I do, so please, piss off!" she snarled, as she took an exit at seventy-five miles an hour. "And, I am NOT projecting anything," she growled, merging with the traffic.

"Kensi, I might not like to play Boss, but don't forget you're both on _my_ team. I'll get into anything I think is damaging to it," he answered with a firm but gentle voice.

"Watch it destroy someone you love, and then interfere all you want," she whispered, slamming on the brakes for a red light.

"Kensi, he doesn't have PTSD!" Callen exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Do you honestly think Nate would have missed it? Do you honestly think that Hetty, or I, or Sam haven't been watching? I talked to Deeks when I saw him hesitate, and I'm sure he won't again. I wouldn't let him out with us if I didn't know he can handle it. I care about him and you far too much to put your lives at risk. More importantly, what we do is too important to compromise the interests of the people we protect by letting him out there if he couldn't handle it. Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"I'm saying that I saw him walk out in front of a speeding car and just stand there!" she growled, as she cut off a flashy _Mercedes_. "Look," she sighed. "We've both been through things like this before. Can you tell me that when the initial fallout ended you never went and did something risky just to feel alive?"

"You know I can't, and neither can you, Kensi," he answered, taking her free hand in his. They'd entered a residential area, and even Kensi adjusted her driving accordingly.

Her bottom lip quivered with the force of her emotions. "That's how it starts," she whimpered. "You find something that makes you feel alive: sex, speed, alcohol…" she trailed off and chuckled bitterly. "Deeks might have a point about being able to get killed by anything. The cycle starts, and then sufferer along with everyone, and everything around them gets sucked into a vortex more destructive than any storm you've ever seen. I lived through it once, _barely_," she hissed. "Now, my partner wants to ride dinky motorcycles, and stand in front of oncoming traffic! All because we thought you _almost _killed a driver who turned out to be a madman!"

He knew Kensi's last remark simply stated a fact, and she didn't blame him for _The Chameleon_. Still, the pain of the vicious human chess match between him and that psychopath, and the lives it took remained in him with blinding intensity. "He's in a hole now, Kensi. I did it the right way these past two times because I couldn't live with killing him in cold blood. If he gets out again, I'll put him down like the mad dog he is."

"Get in line," she whispered. "They hurt him, Callen. He'll never be the same again, and it isn't right!" she blinked once as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "He's been through too much."

"I know, Kensi, I know. Listen, I'm not trying to tell you that you shouldn't worry. You have a right to worry, and we all do. But remember one thing, he deserves to see himself in your eyes not Jack."

She smashed her fist down on her horn as they pulled back onto the main street scaring a small group of tourists too engrossed in the sights to look at the road. "First dad, then Jack, Kevin in that stupid drug OP, then Dom…" her voice broke softly over the sweet young man's name. "Callen, I'm not like you. I'm not steel that gets stronger as it's tempered. I'm not like Sam who has Michelle and the kids to keep him strong no matter what. I'm certainly not like Hetty! I think she's made of Kevlar. I can't take another loss of someone I depend on, I can't do it. I'll crack. I'll crack, and never recover."

* * *

Sam Hanna counted only four things in his life that provided him with complete joy: his wife and children, a fine glass of champagne, good music, and the hum of a perfectly running engine. While he missed _Charlene_ desperately for down-time, his recuperation from Siderov had given him ample time to make real progress on _Helen_. Until she became roadworthy, he made due with his trusted _Challenger_, letting the soothing vibrations of horsepower and the rhythm of the road clear his mind. His companion's outburst with Kensi concerned him, but the fact that he'd been silent since entering the car worried the older man more. "We can turn on the radio if you'd like, Deeks. We're about to hit rush hour."

"I'm fine," the younger man muttered.

"It's okay for you to be angry," Sam continued, ignoring Deeks' unspoken request for silence. "Nobody thinks the less of you. It's a natural part of the recovery process."

"What makes me angry is the ridiculousness of confiscating my bike!" Deeks snapped. "Do you realize that I can more easily drown or hurt myself surfing than I could riding that bike even if I was one hundred percent recovered? Why hasn't Hetty taken my board? Let's not even get into the fact that you all started hounding me with teeth and torture jokes _the day I left the hospital, _but it's perfectly fine to treat me like a child!"

"No, I think we should get into it," Sam asserted. "Do you really think we want to treat you like a child?"

"I think you all forget that just because I'm not ex-Military or a Fed that doesn't mean I've never dealt with trauma! I assure you, Sam, I've been through things a guy like you can't imagine!" he growled, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the window. _'Let Sam get mad about his car. I don't want a headache,'_ came the petulant thought.

Sam inwardly cringed at the scruffy young man's treatment of his baby but said nothing. After all, he'd done worse to one of G's, cars after he'd blown off a run. "Deeks," he answered softly, making sure he wouldn't sound patronizing. "Out of all of us, I am the worst offender when it comes to doubting you, and believe me, it will be a long time before I get over the shame of that," he added, swallowing heavily. "There's nothing I can say to make that right, and I'll never be able to repay what you did for my family. The only way I can explain it is to say that this world you got thrown into is very isolating and extreme. Over time, it takes a toll on how you view, _'outsiders,'_" his voice hitched over the unfriendly word, but he owed Deeks respect by being honest. "It's harder for me because I've lost a lot of people throughout my career. People who gave their lives for mine, and people who depended on me for protection I couldn't provide. You arrived at one of the lowest points in my life, both professionally and personally. I couldn't understand you then, and to be completely honest, I'm not sure I understand you any better now. I just know that I've been unjust and wrong in the way I've treated you, and from now on, I don't want you to have any doubts about my loyalty."

Deeks slowly turned his head to face the former SEAL. Sam had always been a huge package of contradictions for him: a giant of a man whose voice and demeanor showed gentleness (most of the time). A man who valued team work with a dedication to rules and regulations but didn't hesitate to go against his principles if his loved ones were in danger. A man whose innate core of honor, decency, and honesty that made him appear to be the worst possible candidate for work that hinged on deception but excelled at it. He understood what it cost a man with strong pride and principles to admit his errors, especially to a mutt like him.

"I won't deny I haven't liked the occasional, _'red-headed stepchild'_ treatment you so lovingly dished out, Sam," Deeks answered gently, with a faint smile forming on his lips. "One thing I have _never doubted_ is your capacity for loyalty. I understand Dom meant a great deal both to you and to Kensi. I only hope you know that I've never meant any disrespect to his memory, and I'm glad that what happened finally let you trust me," his faint smile deepened into a grin. "I only wish it hadn't taken power tools to do it," he added with a wink.

"I'm sorry too," Sam choked out.

A spike of guilt shot through the younger man's stomach at how he let his annoyance with the motorcycle affect his temper. Sam didn't deserve his foul mood. He knew deep down in his heart that he'd been too harsh with Kensi too, but his ire at her hypocrisy hadn't cooled enough for him to accept it. All he could do is hope that he could make it up to her at the bar. For now, he could do something for the man he'd long admired. "Whenever I start dwelling on the past, a mistake I made, or something I missed out on, I remember my mother's mantra… **'The past is gone, it can't come back, the future is unknown, and that's why we call the present, a** _present_.' Don't live in the past, Sam. All we really have is right now, and it shouldn't be wasted."

A bright smile threatened to split the formidable Sam Hanna's face in half. "The next time G. starts getting sucked into his past, I'm stealing that."

Deeks raised his eyebrows in slight alarm. He didn't want to take the blame if his team leader decided to take issue with any interference in his personal life. "Well, my mother also taught me that, _'there's an exception to everything that isn't an absolute wrong or an absolute right.'_ In my life, I've learned that there are far fewer of those then even the best of men know."

"Careful, Deeks, people will start thinking you're smart," Sam chuckled, with a strong current of admiration running through his tone.

A devilishly wicked smile made the young detective's point without a single word…


	2. Chapter 2

Kensi huffed in annoyance when she didn't see the _Challenger _anywhere in the bar's parking lot. "How is it Sam can drive like a badass on a case, but an eighty-year-old Grammy off the clock?"

"Respect eighty-year-old Grammies, Kensi," Callen chided, with a wink. "You know Sam, he takes the boy-scout thing seriously. Although, I still don't see how he managed to get all his merit badges growing up in the Bronx of all places. They'll be here soon, the traffic moved better than it has in months."

"I see Eric's car, they must be inside already," Kensi sighed, ignoring Callen's attempts to make her laugh. He didn't understand why Deeks' behavior worried her so much. Then again, he couldn't help being a man, and if Kensi understood anything, she understood that men always stuck together.

Deeks had taken the team out to_ McCorley and Seamus' Tavern _on its grand opening just before their lives were torn apart by _The Chameleon_ for a second time. She had a feeling that he knew the owner better than he let on, but every time she pried he'd smirk and toss back a vague answer. _'The tavern'_ quickly became a team favorite for down time and informal debriefs. As one of LA's few truly authentic Irish Pubs (no corned beef and cabbage on the menu) it ticked off all the requirements of a great hangout: fantastic food, imported whiskey and ales, as well as samples from local craft breweries, live music, and a family friendly environment. Kensi could only hope that a pint and a large shepherd's pie would calm her down, so she could make up with her partner. As she stepped inside, her eyes narrowed when she saw Tammy at the hostess station. The only bad thing about coming to _'the tavern'_ meant enduring Tammy's compulsion to hang all over Deeks and kiss him whenever she chose. To be fair, Deeks had gone out of his way to prove that their relationship had been strictly platonic for years, but it still made her crazy listening to the older woman squeal, _'Marty!'_ whenever he walked through the door.

"Well if it isn't Marty's favorite girl and my favorite rejecter!" she called out, grabbing seven menus from the shelf. "Those sweet kids got here five minutes ago and said the gang would be in tonight. I think they intend on camping at the pool table for a while," she winked, leading them to a large table. "Where's my boy?" she asked Kensi, with a hint of sharpness in her tone. "You better be treating him right Kensi," she warned softly. "You don't want to know what will happen if you're not. Hank doesn't like anyone messing with our Marty."

Just as Kensi stepped closer to the blond thorn in her side she felt _her _partner's warm gentle hand at the base of her spine as he reached around her waist to hold her in place. "Tammy," he drawled with his typical wide smile. "What have I asked you about messing with my best girl?"

"Baby," she giggled, placing her customary kiss on his lips. "You bring a girl into the family and this is what happens. If she doesn't treat you good, she'll be sorry. It's as simple as that, and unfortunately you look terrible."

"And none of that has anything to do with her, Tammy!" he replied with a slight glare. "She's off limits, and that's final! Now is Hank in the office?"

Tammy sighed, kissed him again, and then turned to the tall brunette. "You've got no idea what you have here, little girl." Running her fingers through Deeks' shaggy blond curls she nodded. "He's just finishing the books for the week before the rush starts. Go on back. I'll get these guys settled and fed. You want your usual?"

Kensi bit down on the inside of her cheek in fury, forcing herself not to reach up and yank Tammy's boney weak hands out of his hair. Bile rose into her throat from the look on her partner's face. He reminded her of a contented puppy soaking up affection. She reached around his back pinching him hard in the side. "I don't know about you, _Marty_," she cut in, saying his given name in a sickly, sweet tone. "But I'm starving, and I'm sure you don't want that on your hands."

He tightened his grip around Kensi's waist pulling her flush against his side. "Yeah thanks, Tammy. I meant what I said though, this woman is my partner! She'd kill for me or die for me in a heartbeat, and I'd do all that and more for her. Nobody, not even my family, gets to threaten her with anything! Are we clear?"

Tammy smiled softly. "You can't blame me for wanting you to have the best, handsome. Go on back. I'll be good— reluctantly," she added, after a long pause with a sexy wink.

A chuckle escaped his control as he bent down to kiss the shorter woman's forehead. "I'd never ask you to like it." Giving Kensi one more squeeze he stepped away. "I'll be back in a few minutes' guys. Don't start the fun without me."

* * *

Kensi took a deep breath and leaned dangerously into the hostess' personal space. "If you ever, and I mean ever, question my loyalty to him again, I'll show you exactly how far I'm willing to go," she growled.

"You might be willing to die for him, honey," Tammy answered, with a nod, acknowledging the woman's dedication. "But eventually you'll realize _living_ for someone is a hell of a lot harder and more important. The day he tells me you'll do that for him is the day I start being nice to you. Right now, I just don't think you've got the guts." A grin of triumph spread across her face as the younger woman's mismatched eyes widened in shock. Deciding that she'd pushed the dangerous brunette far enough for one night she walked up to Callen. "Do I have even the hope of a chance that you'll let me take you home tonight, _Sugar_?" she pleaded, jutting out her lower lip.

"How many times will you make me say no, Tammy?" Callen answered kindly, as he shook his head.

"As many times as it takes until you say yes," she smirked, waggling her eyebrows. "I'm worth it."

"That isn't the issue. I'm sure you are," G. winked, ignoring his partner's badly hidden snort of amusement. "I'm not worth the effort, Tammy," he sighed, hoping she'd finally stop offering. "Find someone who'd jump at the chance for a cup of coffee with you, and stop wasting your time with me," he grinned, pulling her into a one arm hug.

"Am I interrupting something, Mr. Callen?" Hetty interrupted with a bemused smirk.

"I wish, Miss Lange," Tammy sighed. "But I'm afraid he's completely incorruptible. I'll get your _Cognac _straight away." She turned to Sam and grinned. "Just one beer for you, as you're driving home to the wife and kids. I'll get you a new IPL we've got on tap. Moving to Kensi she winked. "One tequila shot and a _Heineken_. The kiddies are sticking to light rum and cokes tonight, but little Nell should eat something soon, I think she must've skipped lunch and forgot." Finally, she looped her arms around G's neck. "One more time, and I swear I'll holler 'uncle…' will you please, please, please, let me take you home tonight?"

"I'm not the guy for you, Tammy," he reiterated gently removing her arms, but relieved to see honesty in her eyes.

"I'll bring you a Black and Tan to start," she groaned, walking to the bar. "Chad, Marty's other family is here," she called out.

"I can't believe she's kept trying this long," Sam grinned, slapping his partner on the back. "Why she'd think a scrawny thing like you is such hot stuff I'll never know."

"I've just got qualities you're blind to, thank God," G. smirked, sliding into a chair.

"I think she'll jump anything that moves," Kensi grumbled.

"She's okay, Kensi. Besides, not everyone can be, _'the best first date girl in town_,_'_" he added with a pointed look.

Sam gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, I'll whip you at darts, twenty bucks a game."

"In your dreams!" she scoffed, turning on her heel and marching towards the back where the pool tables and darts area had been set up.

* * *

Hetty settled in a chair with a tiny sigh. "Mr. Callen, the number days that I feel my age are increasing with alarming frequency."

"We all need a rest, Hetty. But let me know if there's anything I can do," Callen, encouraged with a small smile.

"I'd appreciate it if you showed a little more respect for my personal workspace," she chided with a sharp look.

The smile fell from his lips and he leaned forward staring her straight in the eyes. "You were wrong to take those keys, Hetty. Everything he said was right. He's not a child, and we have no call to be telling him what he can or cannot do on his own time! Did he survive something horrible? Yes. Is he fully recovered from the effects of what happened? No. Will he ever be the same Deeks he was before it happened? No. Does he need to regain his confidence and faith that he can still do his job? Yes, and we both know that doesn't happen overnight. But, he'll never get it back if we barge in and start questioning every move he makes! Look, at first, I was going to let you handle it as you saw fit, but I can't do that when I see it isn't working. You haven't said a word about any of the other risky activities he enjoys."

"You're referring to his surfing," Hetty replied, arching an eyebrow.

"That, the jet ski, the no pads tackle football games he has with the LAPD…" he shrugged. "So why is a motorcycle sending up red flags?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I'm monitoring those activities as well, Mr. Callen? When Mr. Deeks goes surfing or jet skiing, Eric is also there. As for his football games, one of the team members happens to be a psychologist for the department and an old colleague from years ago. The motorcycle by itself isn't a concern. The fact he never mentioned he wished to purchase one _is_. Have you ever known him to hold back when it comes to something of this nature?"

Callen cocked his head to the side, thinking back. "No, I don't remember him ever keeping something like this to himself before. So, you think this is an impulse purchase?"

"I do," Hetty affirmed with a short nod. "If I am correct, then I have reason to be concerned."

"Why?" he asked. "Even if it was an impulse purchase, why is that raising a red-flag? Hetty, even I've made impulse purchases before. He rode the thing safely with a helmet, just because you think he didn't plan it out doesn't mean anything."

"The point, Mr. Callen," Hetty snapped through clenched teeth, "is that I can't be sure!"

"Hetty, you can't be sure I won't slip in the shower when I get home! Did it ever occur to you that by coddling him like this he could regress? It's bad enough his partner is looking for cracks, but if we all start doing it he just might pull away and really do something stupid!" Callen exclaimed. "He needs to know we have the same level of trust in him that we had before. If you don't, then send him back to the LAPD, because it isn't fair to him to be tied to any metaphorical apron strings. We either believe in him or cut him loose; there is no in-between on my team, Hetty."

Hetty met Callen's burning blue stare with some surprise. Of all the arguments he could have raised this one she didn't anticipate. "Unfortunately, Mr. Callen, they don't give me a handbook that tells me which people will crack and which will not. I've known men and women who were evaluated as _'unbreakable'_ crumble like wet tissues with less trauma; I've seen those who nobody expected to last one day in the field endure horrors that would drive my sanity away like chaff in the breeze. You must understand that it is my job to protect all of you in any way I am able. Even if that means protecting you all from yourselves."

"I know," he said softly, reaching for her hand. "But, you can't live our lives for us."

"Do you think, we should cut him loose?" she asked with a shaky whisper.

"I'm giving him back his keys, Hetty, and I'll keep his bike in my garage. When he wants to ride it, all he'll have to do is call. We should watch over him for now, Hetty, but we can't make his choices for him. If the bike is his way of embracing survival, then let him have it," he answered firmly, softening his words by running his thumb over the back of her hand.

A tiny smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Callen had defied her outright more than once, but always behind her back. The fact he felt strongly enough about his choice to confront her and openly say he thought her decision wrong, reassured her that while he led his team without an obvious display of command, he had everything well in hand. "I told you before that you lead, and I will _row the boat_, so I will leave the issue at that. Just don't you dare think that there won't be some form of contrition for you to compensate for you penchant for petty larceny."

"I'll be over to help with the orchids this weekend," he winked.

* * *

Deeks walked out of Hank's office calmer, feeling very contrite for his harsh words to Kensi back at _The Mission_. Since talking to Nate, he'd spent as much time as possible with his surrogate father-figure, baring his soul and much more to the older man. Hank's own experiences had made talking about what happened with Siderov, and Sam's initial distrust that he'd betrayed Michelle easier to bear. Having someone who'd been through the horror of torture tell him he wasn't going crazy meant much more to him than a Psychiatrist's professional opinion emotionally. Eventually, with Hank's patient support, he'd stopped blaming himself for feeling so weak. He knew he still had a long way to go before he reached the point where the mental wounds would scar, but he now had the confidence that they would. As an undercover cop, he'd grown used to the constant threat of death as just another fact of life. He'd been beaten and interrogated on the job before, he'd even had jumper cables used on him before. Siderov's passion for power tools only formed a small piece of his angst.

The main thrust of his angst revolved around the fact that he had a team depending on his strength. The pressure of not letting Sam down, the knowledge that if he cracked a man and his child would be deprived of a wife and mother, had hung around his neck like a noose. Sam's questions only amplified his own self-doubt. Yes, he'd been able to stay strong once, but what if it had been Kensi sitting across from him, or Nell… and if the fallout from this time left him doubting his sanity, how could he be sure he'd survive the next time? With time, a lot of yelling, and even more tears, Hank helped him see that worrying about the _'next time'_ accomplished nothing, and the only way to heal would be to focus on each day as it comes.

Which is why he'd gotten so angry at his team's reaction to his bike. He'd bought it because he'd always wanted one, and he simply didn't want to put it off any more. He needed to re-establish his faith in his own judgment and celebrate being able to enjoy life. Seeing his team waiting for him to break down, threatened to undo all the progress he'd worked so hard for. Of course, his mind said _team_, but his heart shouted KENSI, KENSI, KENSI, without letup. He understood her fears, but the wounded part of him hated her for seeing Jack, and not HIM! He still tasted her on his lips, and the ache for her had gone from a mild twinge in his chest, to a visceral burning that consumed him. He talked around it, calling his ache _'their thing,'_ taunting her so she'd admit her feelings first. If she made the first move, then she couldn't convince herself he'd trapped her into a relationship. At first it seemed like a great plan, until she'd lashed out at him saying _'you never say what you mean!'_ His control snapped, and he'd kissed her. Of course, everything sailed straight to hell, and now if he even attempted to mention the kiss she'd start shrieking PTSD at the top of her lungs. He wouldn't put it past her to convince herself that he wanted to use her to feel alive, if it allowed her to avoid facing her own abandonment issues.

Since he vowed privately to be completely honest with himself inside his own mind, he readily admitted the temptation to do just that threatened to overwhelm him at times. He knew he could succeed. Kensi wore her sexuality without inhibition. She made no secret of the fact she enjoyed sex, and she saw no reason not to go after it whenever she chose. When it came to physical compatibility they both knew they were perfectly matched, even with their blazing attraction remaining unconsummated. It would hardly take more than a few passionate kisses and the right touch to whip her into a sexual frenzy so violent that neither of them would be able to stop. Yes, he knew all too well how easy it would be to lose himself in her; that's exactly why he didn't act. As much as he wanted her, as much as he hated this dance they were locked in, he loved her too much to use her like that. He wasn't Jack, Donald Blye, or Dominic Vale, and he refused to be just another notch on her bedpost. He had to be certain he wouldn't be using her as an escape. Once he knew, he fully intended on making it blatantly clear he wanted her in every way, and he wouldn't be waiting for her to make the first move any more.

However, that would have to wait a bit longer. For now, he had to patch things up from their fight and convince Hetty he had no intention of becoming the next _Evel Knievel_. Maybe if he played his hand right, she'd give him his bike back in six months or so. He strolled up to his partner as she collected a healthy wad of cash from an obviously flustered Sam. "Oh now be fair, _Fern_," he cooed, throwing an arm around her. "He's got kids to put through college, and I guarantee there are at least twenty people here who'd give their eye-teeth to have you fleece them."

"Where have you been, making out with Tammy in the backseat of her car?" Kensi spat, as she brushed his arm off.

"Don't be ridiculous, I haven't been in a backseat with Tammy since I was nineteen!" he shrugged, stifling a laugh as her eyes filled with rage.

"And you were certainly eager to get in there," Tammy interjected, handing him a _Corona_.

"Hello, you were twenty-one with the best legs in the neighborhood! Every guy wanted to be in your car, and I certainly wasn't your only passenger," he admitted as his face turned red. "You promised me you'd behave."

"Why, Detective, I'm only confirming your alibi," Tammy laughed, ruffling his hair. "You law-enforcement types are always confirming alibis. Now eat, all the others are half-way through their meals, and the band starts soon."

"What did you ever see in her?" Kensi muttered, moving past him to return to her food.

"The same thing you saw in that Private what's-his-name when you snuck down to Tijuana a week before your nineteenth birthday," he answered, tugging at her pony-tail. "Besides, she could legally buy beer. So, what do you say, _Sugarbear_, do I get a dance tonight?"

"I don't know, doesn't your groupie have to work?" Kensi glared.

"Kens, I admit she was wrong to get under your skin like that, but I've known her since I was in diapers. Please give her a break, for me," he requested, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Her breath caught in her throat at the vulnerability in those ocean blue eyes. She longed to see them spark with the irreverence and mischievous wit she'd come to depend on, but no matter how hard she looked she could only see the clouds of pain in them. She knew she should take Callen's advice, but those clouds scared her more than she could ever admit, even to herself. "She might not get under my skin so much if you'd told me that before," she muttered, taking a huge bite of her Shepard's pie to avoid another argument.

"I didn't know we were at the stage where we gave a list of ex's," he winked, chuckling as she froze mid-chew. "So, Hetty, since my partner seems to have forgotten her dancing shoes do you want wanna 'trip the light fantastic' with your favorite?" he smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"I'm afraid my days of dancing jigs and reels have long past," she sighed, patting his hand.

"Ah me," he pouted, shaking his head in mock despair.

Eric and Nell joined the table in the middle of a heated argument about applying geometry verses using instinct in pool. "I'm not saying geometry doesn't have its uses, Eric," Nell chirped, waving her hands emphatically. "I'm just saying that there are times when even though taking a shot from a certain angle might not appear logical from a mathematical viewpoint, it can work! As I just proved," she smirked.

"I don't know how you cheated, but you did," Eric laughed.

The sounds of Celtic strings and the beat of the _Bodhrán_ began to rise above the chatter. Soon, Deeks stood up and cheered as Chad and Hank appeared, each with a pair of spoons and joined the group. "Nell, you've got to save me, my legs will fly off if don't dance, and my partner here wants to stuff her face."

Nell blushed, and smiled at his enthusiasm. After the disaster with Siderov, she made sure that she showed Deeks and Sam how much their friendship meant to her more often, never wanting to take them for granted. "Well, you won't be much good to anyone without legs so come on," she winked.

Hetty smiled as she watched the pair begin to dance, a highly inaccurate but enthusiastic version of a reel. "It's good to see his real smile coming back, Ms. Blye, don't you agree?"

"I just hope it isn't the beer he drank and a reaction to pheromones," she replied with a flat laugh, as Nell skipped back to the table and her partner whirled an elderly lady around the floor.

"His legs are too long, he needs a taller woman to dance with than me!" Nell cried out, her cheeks rosy from the exercise and laughter. "Eric, I beg you, let me have some of your water before I faint."

The young man grinned sliding his untouched large ice water to her while simultaneously signaling Tammy for a refill. "It's not Deeks' legs that have you winded, it's too much Captain Morgan and cola," he stated with a smirk.

"Probably," Nell shrugged, as her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red.

Before Sam or Callen could make any teasing (and fraternal) remarks of disapproval a slow waltz began and Deeks returned to Kensi's side. "May I have this dance?" he whispered, bending down to whisper in her ear. "Don't make me beg, Kens, please don't make me beg."

The emotion in his voice made her throat nearly swell shut. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head to look in his eyes and her mind went blank. She couldn't decipher what the look in his eyes meant. Such seriousness, such calmness, but something deep and burning hid in them that could be lust but didn't look like anything she'd ever seen when a man looked at her. She didn't know what hid in his voice and his eyes, but she did know she couldn't refuse him. She rose from her chair without a word, allowing him to guide her to the dance floor. Chad and Hank, waved at them from behind the bar as Deeks took her in his arms.

"Hey, this isn't how we waltzed before," she accused with a faint grin as he pulled her far too close to do the dance properly.

"We're not in a ball room and this isn't Strauss," he winked.

A jolt of apprehension shot up her spine like an electric shock. "I'm just saying that it's cozy, considering you were shouting in my face less than two hours ago," she answered, in a far more compassionate tone than she'd used all day.

Deeks felt his heart squeeze painfully as his beautiful partner shuddered in his arms. "I know," he whispered, pausing their dance to lift her chin so her eyes met his. "I should have never shouted at you like that. You have every right to be pissed at me."

"I suppose I should be grateful you remember it at all," she murmured into his ear, as he pulled her closer.

"Kensi," he sighed, as he moved her around the dance floor. "I haven't had any blackouts, I'm not re-living it. You of all people know that there's a difference between _Post Traumatic Stress _and _Post Traumatic Stress Disorder_. I know I'm still healing, but you've got to stop looking for things that aren't there!"

"And you've got to get it through your thick skull that you are not the best judge to determine what is there and what isn't! I've been tortured before, I know what this is! You fell into this world and—"

"Kensi!" Deeks growled hotly into her ear. "I know both you and Sam worry about my inexperience with certain things this job comes with. But training isn't everything!" Feeling her tense up and pull back for a fight, he deliberately took a softer more pleading tone. "Kens," he murmured with all the affection he dared to reveal in his voice, "believe it or not, what Siderov did, was not the worst trauma I've ever had. You're too sweet and honorable to imagine some of the horrors I've faced."

"Haven't you ever heard about the straw that broke the camel's back?" Kensi sighed, unconsciously resting her chin on his shoulder.

A soft laugh escaped Deeks' throat as he murmured. "If I couldn't break a camel's back, this can't break me. Just think of me as Atlas. If he can hold the world on his back, I can survive this."

"There isn't enough room here for me and your ego," Kensi snorted, rolling her eyes. She sighed, knowing that she'd lost this argument before it even started. "I can't lose another partner," she whispered.

"You won't, Kens," he soothed, pulling her close once again. "I always keep my word."

* * *

Callen grinned, seeing Kensi surrender to Deeks' lead. "The storm has finally passed," he announced, raising a toast to the couple.

"It seems so, at least for now, Mr. Callen," Hetty sighed. "I worry that my age is finally becoming a hindrance."

Callen discretely took her hand under the table and squeezed it gently. "Hetty, a good meal and some sleep is all you need. We're all tired. Would you like me to stay over for a few days?"

A wry smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Callen, but things haven't gotten so gloomy yet. Besides, you'll be spending plenty of time in the orchid house this weekend."

"Getting the keys was worth it," Callen smirked.

"Did it even occur to you, that you could ask me for them?" Hetty chuckled, shaking her head in exasperation.

"My way is more fun. Besides, sometimes Gibbs does have a rule or two I find useful. I promise that I'll be seeking forgiveness for a long time," he chuckled.

"Must you always do things the hard way, Mr. Callen?" Hetty sighed dramatically.

"Let's just say I have to do things the way I think will have the best chance of success," he replied, squeezing her hand.

Hetty rolled her eyes and took her last sip of Cognac. "Since I am too tired to argue with you, I'll just make up for it when you come to help me this weekend."

"I'm sorry, I disappointed you Hetty. You know I hate doing that," he murmured.

Hetty gently caressed the back of the back of the younger man's neck, moving down to knead at a tight knot between his shoulders. "The only way you could truly disappoint me is if one of your acts of rebellion gets you killed," she soothed. "We've come a long way together, you and I. Despite our ups and downs, we'll continue on together at least as long as I live."

"Always," he whispered.

Hetty patted him on the back and began to gather her things. "I've already called a cab to get home, so don't worry about me. You do what you need to do to keep your team running smoothly. I'll see you tomorrow, and I'll get your room ready for the weekend."


End file.
